


Meant To Be More Than Just Friends

by athenejen



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Relationship Advice, Skating, fs_exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenejen/pseuds/athenejen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adam likes Yuna, and may or may not manage to tell her so in words. Set approximately now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meant To Be More Than Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [short_program](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=short_program).



> Written for short_program as part of fs_exchange 2010. I love my betas -- thank you both! Title is from "Oh My Lover," written by Ronald Mack, [originally performed by The Chiffons](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OER6v8jzNU), and more recently [covered by The Detroit Cobras](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=3ZW9PK0Y). I have opted to spell Yuna's name as she does on her twitter account.

Adam Rippon was not a fan of diet soda.

"I am not a fan of diet soda," he told Yuna. He handed the can of Diet Coke back to her.

They were standing at the boards, watching Joubert methodically running through what seemed like every jump that had ever been invented in the history of figure skating. The three of them were going to breakfast with Brian, David, and some of Brian's other students later that morning, and it had seemed more efficient (and also more fun) to stick around and wait than to go somewhere else in between.

Yuna gave him a doubting look. "But I saw you drink it, before."

"Impossible!" he shouted. "It tastes like chemicals. The bad kind."

Joubert gave him an almost identical doubting look as he swept by them on his way to a picture-perfect triple sal.

"See?" said Yuna, lifting her chin. "Brian agrees with me."

"Nonsense!" cried Adam. Directly behind them, Brian -- _their_ Brian, the one who was the best coach in the world and who hardly ever gave Adam doubting looks even when Adam totally deserved them -- cleared his throat. They both jumped.

"Probably," said Brian, kindly but pointedly, "he's just not used to it being so noisy during practices."

Oops. Adam flushed, and was about to start babbling apologies when Yuna piped up.

"We'll wait in the lobby," she told Brian. Then she grabbed Adam's hand and dragged him toward the nearest door.

"Bye, Brian!" she called across the ice toward Joubert. When Adam glanced back just as Yuna pulled him through the door, Joubert had a hand up in a sort of waving-type position. It was hard to tell for certain because Joubert was on the far side of the rink, but Adam was pretty sure that he was almost smiling.

Adam could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Joubert smile in the week since the guy had arrived in Toronto -- not even one smile per day! Brian said it was because Joubert missed Poitiers. Adam wasn't convinced. Yuna insisted that Joubert didn't hate either of them, that he was just shy and maybe a little sad. Adam grudgingly agreed that Joubert seemed to like Yuna just fine, and that it was possible not noticing Adam's existence didn't actually mean that Joubert disliked him. Still, it was worrying. Adam would prefer to be liked, if given the choice.

At least Yuna liked him! He was willing to trade any number of people liking him for that. Not that he'd had to. At least, that he'd ever noticed, anyway. Even Mao, Yuna's biggest rival, liked her. So Yuna liking him shouldn't really make other people less likely to like him. Right? Right. And even if it did, he would choose Yuna over everyone! Well, except his family. And Brian, but Yuna would say the same thing, so it didn't really count.

"Adam," said Yuna, interrupting his train of thought. Apparently he'd been so distracted by what was happening in his own mind that he'd stopped walking. She pulled him over to one of the wooden benches in the lobby.

"You'd choose Brian liking you over anyone else liking you, right?" Adam asked her.

"Joubert? No. He is nice, but not my type," Yuna said, matter-of-factly. She cracked open the can and took a sip, then set it on the bench between them.

"No, I meant Brian. Our Brian. Our coach?"

"Oh, I see." Yuna looked thoughtful. "Then yes, I believe. Or my mom. I don't want to choose, though."

Adam nodded. "I agree!" Then he paused and rewound their conversation in his head. "Wait, you have a type? What's your type? Or should I say, _who_?"

Yuna shook her head. "I don't know yet."

"But you just said--"

"Knowing who is _not_ my type doesn't mean I know who _is_ my type," continued Yuna, as if he hadn't spoken. Her cheeks were just a tiny bit flushed.

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"Huh." Adam made a mental note.

"By the way," said Yuna, "you drank it."

"What? No!" exclaimed Adam. But there it was, in his hand, the Diet Coke. Open and about a third of the way gone, too. "You tricked me." He glared at Yuna.

"I know," she said happily. "It is so easy!"

Adam sighed, then took another sip. "It still tastes like chemicals," he muttered.

"You love it!" she grinned at him, and nudged his arm with her shoulder. "I know you better than you know yourself."

He reluctantly smiled back. "Yeah." Put that way, it was kind of awesome.

He finished the can.

~

At breakfast, Adam waited a whole fifteen minutes before bringing up the concept of types. As he'd hoped, Christina and Rylie jumped on the topic right away.

" _My_ type is the classic: tall, dark, and handsome!" Christina said. She was brandishing what was left of her banana in a frankly disturbing fashion.

"Wait, like, _tall_ , tall? Or just taller than _you_?" Rylie sounded genuinely curious.

"Both!" Christina grinned. "And taller than you, too."

"Like that's hard." Rylie rolled her eyes. "So, taller than Adam, shorter than Evan Lysacek?"

"Well. Someone taller than Evan _might_ be okay. It just depends."

Rylie, Min-Jung, and Yuna all nodded like that made perfect sense. Adam caught Brian and David sharing an amused look; they probably wouldn't interrupt. Joubert just kept eating his yogurt.

"I don't think I care about height," mused Rylie. "I just want someone funny and sweet and smart enough to not be boring."

"Oh yeah, 'not boring' is on the list, definitely!" Christina agreed.

"Yes," Min-Jung added, "and ambitious would be nice, too." She glanced at Yuna. "Don't you think?"

"I don't know," said Yuna. There was something odd in her tone.

"How can you not know?" Christina asked. _Thank_ you, thought Adam. At least he wasn't the only one confused by that.

Yuna shrugged. "I just don't, not yet. Not for sure." Her gaze was fixed on her orange juice.

Christina peered at her, then seemed to come to some kind of decision. She shifted her attention down the table.

"What about you, Adam?" she asked. They all turned to stare at him. Well, Joubert kept eating, and Brian and David were having their own conversation at the end of the table, but the rest of them.

"Uh," Adam said. He took a sip of water. "Cute, I guess? And smart?"

Christina narrowed her eyes at him. "Taller or shorter?"

"Uh," he said again. "Don't care?"

She looked pleased. "Good!" Rylie and Min-Jung nodded, too.

Rylie lit up all of a sudden and said, "Oh, hey! Anyone else want to go see _Toy Story 3_ again? I was thinking Friday night."

There was a flurry of excited agreement. Even Joubert looked interested.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief.

~

A week later, Yuna cruelly abandoned him for a whole day so she could go hang out with Patrick Chan.

True, Adam also had the day off, but after spending most of the day puttering around aimlessly, he decided to go to the rink after dinner. He wanted to spend some extra time with _Cinema Paradiso_ , so he could really _live_ the music on the ice.

Also, he needed to stop moping about Yuna hanging out with Patrick. Who he had nothing against. At all. He even enjoyed his company most of the time. It was just that Adam was kind of really used to having Yuna around.

Things that counted as moping in Adam's world: pretty much everything besides going to the rink. He could never claim that his relationship with skating was _healthy_ , exactly, but it was _his_.

And he could always pretend that Yuna was just taking a quick break and would be back on the ice any minute. Though really, he probably shouldn't.

When he got to the rink, Joubert was already there, running through footwork. Adam spent a good twenty minutes stretching before popping his blade guards off and stepping onto the ice.

Joubert gave him a half wave and Adam waved back. At least he didn't feel like he had to smile around Joubert, and he was so used to having someone else on the ice with him, hearing the slide and scrape of Joubert's skates on the other side of the rink was actually sort of comforting.

Adam thought about asking Joubert if he was okay with Adam playing _Cinema Paradiso_ over the sound system, but changed his mind. Today was definitely the day for working on spins.

An hour and a half later, he was almost -- but not quite! -- dizzy, and felt about eighty-five percent happy with the work he'd done. Not bad. He was attempting to find that sweet spot where speed and control and balance all came together for the specific spins in his programs this year, which involved a lot of trial and error.

He snapped the blade guards back on, did five minutes of wind-down stretches, and drank some Gatorade while sitting in the first row of seats at the side of the rink.

Joubert had disappeared maybe ten minutes before Adam stepped off the ice. He returned holding two cups of coffee from the Tim Hortons down the street, and handed one to Adam as he sat down next to him.

Adam pried the lid off of the coffee to let steam escape. He glanced sideways at Joubert, who was staring out at the ice moodily.

"Thanks for the coffee," Adam offered.

" _De rien_ ," replied Joubert. He sketched a vague "no problem" gesture in the air with his free hand.

They sat in silence for minute.

Adam tried again. "It looks like you're doing good work out there."

Joubert nodded. "And you as well."

"Thanks!" said Adam. "I feel like I'm getting close."

Joubert nodded again.

More silence.

This time, Joubert spoke up first. "Yuna is not with you."

It was a statement, but Adam could hear the question in it.

"Yeah, she's hanging out with Patrick."

"Chan?"

"Yeah." Adam couldn't keep the morose tone out of his voice.

Joubert glanced at him.

Adam felt his mouth twist into a wry smile. "You've gotten girls to go out with you before."

Joubert made a noise that was not quite a laugh. "Yes."

"How?"

Joubert actually laughed this time, though there was a hard, bitter edge to it. "I ask them, and they agree."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"If you say so." Adam doubted it was that simple. But then, he wasn't Joubert.

Joubert looked at Adam seriously for a few seconds. Then he did that almost smiling thing again. "You should try it. She will probably say yes." He stood up, downed his coffee in a few large gulps, and tossed it in the nearest trash can before heading back out onto the ice.

Adam drank his coffee much more slowly. He watched Joubert make swift circumnavigations of the rink, first clockwise, then counterclockwise.

He thought, _maybe_.

~

The next day Adam and Yuna were scheduled for the earliest morning session. They said quick hellos, then worked mostly in silence, in between quiet conversations with Brian at the boards.

Adam spent his breaks watching Yuna skate.

Afterwards, they went to breakfast at Steve's, just the two of them. They talked about _So You Think You Can Dance_ and the trailer for the new Harry Potter movie (Yuna wanted Hermione's entire wardrobe, and Adam secretly kind of did, too), and made a complicated bridge-like structure out of sugar packets and creamer cups and silverware.

"Adam." Yuna had stopped trying to figure out how to dangle sugar packets from the tines of a fork without puncturing them, and was looking straight at him.

He put down the three knives and spoon he had been trying to tangle together to make a pillar.

"Yuna?" he replied.

"Adam," she repeated. "Listen."

They both stared at each other across the table for a moment.

Yuna took a deep breath. "Do you want go out to dinner with me sometime?"

Adam felt his eyes widen and his mouth drop open, and his hands gripped the edge of the table, hard.

He closed his mouth, then said, really fast and high-pitched, "I was going to ask you the same thing. And by that, I mean _yes_!"

"Good!" she beamed at him, clearly relieved. "You should pick a place, and come get me at seven, tonight. And bring flowers! I like flowers."

He brought her a dozen pink roses and one bird-of-paradise, just because he thought it would make her laugh.

He was right.


End file.
